Spirited Away 2: Dance of the Kage Ryuu
by Brunetta6
Summary: Years have passed since Chihiro Ogino came and went from the Spirit Realm. Many, MANY years. Eighty to be precise, and now her family's spiriting away has become nothing but urban legend. But now, a greater legend will take its place – a legend of spirits and dragons. Of lovers, friends, parents, and traitors. And a dark, powerful enemy… the Kage Ryuu. ON HIATUS.
1. Sen Ogino

**Spirited Away is an incredible film, and it is Miyasaki-sensei's magnum opus. I conceived the concept of "Dance of the Kage Ryuu" literally years ago, and died when entered high school. But I revived it from my brain's story grave, nursed it back to health… and here it is!**

**Enjoy. =)**

* * *

**Chapter 1:**

**Sen Ogino**

"And this is a dragon sculpture carved from precious white jade, dated to be more than three thousand years old! According to legend, the dragon was a monster infamous for his temper. But he was very vain, and they say the artisan got the creature to pose for this carving, just by saying how handsome he was! Isn't that _exciting_?"

The teacher's remark was met by the bored, sleepy stares of twenty-odd high school students. More than a few covered yawns.

This trip to the Museum of Japanese Folklore was only made worse by the fact that it wasn't even a school day, and their teacher was an overenthusiastic morning person – especially in this wing, which was entirely dedicated to the myths and depictions of dragons. Still, the woman would make it clear she was not one to be deterred. She made several more exclamations about the _exciting_ statue and pranced on to a tapestry of a group of dragons flying among the clouds, her overly perky voice going on and on about how _exciting_ it was.

One student yawned so wide his jaws creaked, not even bothering to cover it. "Dragon this, dragon that," he muttered grouchily to the boy next to him. "We're only on this trip to get extra credit. I should've just taken a 35 on that quiz. I feel like I'm gonna _die._"

"Please be quiet."

The boy turned, irritated. "Ah?"

Normally warm brown eyes glittered coldly at him, framed by long lashes and set in a creamy, pretty face. "I would like to hear this," their owner repeated. "Please be quiet."

The boy turned completely around – blocking the smaller student's path – and looked her up and down. She was _very_ pretty... in a girlish way, with a pert nose and cherubic features that hadn't yet completely lost their child roundness. She wore the emblemed, short-sleeved white shirt and pleated blue miniskirt of a freshman girl's uniform, which even when fastened by a black belt rode low on her skinny hips. But despite that, her legs were long and her breasts were nothing short of precocious; at least a D-cup, giving her a rack he hadn't seen on most fully grown women. Her long chestnut hair was tied back with a purple band, which somehow seemed to shimmer with its own violet light.

Normally, a seventeen-year old guy like him would apologize as flirtatiously as possible and try to get her phone number, freshman or not… but he was tired and grumpy and not in the mood for cheek. Especially not from a _girl_ younger than he was.

"Is that any way to talk to an upperclassman?" he sneered at her. "Who are you, anyway?"

Without warning, another senior boy jabbed him with an elbow. "Ow!" the first boy protested, hand over his ribs. "What the heck was that for?!"

The second guy tugged him back towards the group. "Come on, Lee, you don't want to talk to her."

Lee's interest was piqued in spite of himself. He glanced back at the brown-haired girl, who was still standing there, gazing with intensity at the dragon statue. "Why?"

"That's _Sen Ogino_. She's in the care of that local family of Shinto priests."

"The ones on that hill, near the haunted forest?"

"Yeah. The rumor is that her parents dropped her off when she was just ten years old and then _left_ her there. And that's not all, either. She's been diagnosed with mental instability for years by, like, ten doctors and even a famous psychiatrist! The whole nine yards! People say she has entire _conversations_ in her sleep, and has dozens of sketchbooks filled with drawings of the same monsters, just over and over."

"Wow." He glanced back at her then quickly away, like he might catch a disease by looking at her. "She's a _freak_, huh?"

"Why else would she get a 98 on our mythology quiz and still want to come on this trip?"

"You got a point there."

"I know, right?"

* * *

Although she pretended not to hear, Sen had heard every word as the boys beat a hasty retreat. She sighed; apart from the "mental instability" part, it was all true. She lived with Shinto priests and not her parents. She _did_ have dozens of sketchbooks, filled with drawings of creatures that _did_ look a lot like monsters. She _did_ have entire conversations in her sleep – with one person in particular.

One river spirit in particular.

She knew people weren't supposed to touch a three-thousand-year old statue, but she couldn't help herself, her fingers caressing the cool white jade of the dragon's nose as she lost herself in her memories. It had been five years since she'd last seen a living, breathing dragon. It had been five years since she'd retaken the name of Sen, for use in the human world.

She reached instinctively into the breast pocket of her uniform, fishing out the card she had, did, and would always keep with her. Her brown eyes read the childish scrawl hungrily. Although she had memorized this card again and again, countless times since she was 10, it was always a relief to read that slip of paper – crumpled with handling and yellowed with age.

_I'll miss you, Chihiro._

_Your best friend, Rui._

"My name is Chihiro," she whispered to herself.

Her cherubic lips curved up. It always felt like a personal victory to say that aloud.

**.**

* * *

**A/N: This story's style is noticeably different than my other ones, but I think it works! And like all my stories… it has plot bunnies, hot romance, and a twist near the end that will leave you stunned. Like it so far?**

**Chapter 2 incoming! Stay tuned. **

**WAIT, DON'T YOU REVIEW! DON'T YOU CLICK THAT BUTTON! HAKU WILL EAT YOU IF YOU DO! I MEAN IT! DON'T YOU DARE…!**

**Aw, dang it. X3**


	2. The Patriarch

**Chapter 2:**

**The Patriarch**

_-"My name is Chihiro," she whispered to herself._

_Her cherubic lips curved up. It always felt like a personal victory to say that aloud.-_

"Chihiro." She repeated her name, smiling. "Chihiro, Chihiro."

When she felt like she had it, she tucked the card back into her breast pocket, turning her attention back to the white jade sculpture. "You weren't vain, were you Haku?" she said to it cheerfully.

She examined the statue; the dragon had been depicted curving around itself in a serpentine fashion. From her experience with Haku's expressions, its face did look rather self-absorbed. "I don't think you'd willingly pose like this long enough for some silly old guy to carve you out of jade, either, don't you think?" Chihiro giggled.

She stroked the sculpture's stone nose. Haku would've smiled at that.

Suddenly, Chihiro felt her odd upswing of mood ebb away. Her face grew somber as she grazed the white, semiprecious stone, now growing less cold under the touch of her warm fingertips. She really did miss Haku. And Kamaji, and Lin. Zaniba. And Boh, that giant baby. No-Face, even Yubaba to a degree.

Thinking about her life, Chihiro wondered if she should have ever told her parents what had happened, when they finally reached their house...

Eighty _years_ after the movers.

"_**HEY!**_"

Chihiro nearly jumped out of her skin; she looked up, eyes wide. A museum security guard marched over to her, an irate expression on his tomato-red face. "What in the _world_ do you think you're touching?! That's one of the oldest artifacts in this entire museum!"

Chihiro blinked, confused. What was she touching? She glanced down at her hand. Ah, she _was_ touching something.

She was still touching the sculpture!

Chihiro yelped and let go of the thing like it was a hot brick. "I-I'm so sorry, sir!" she apologized fervently. "I didn't realize I was –!"

The guard's face got even redder, more beet-colored now. He grabbed her wrist with a hand the size of a small ham and began to drag her down the hall. "You're coming with me, young lady! We're going to call your parents and you're going to be in _big_ trouble!"

"Sen?!"

Chihiro flinched at the sound of her teacher's voice. The guard's grip forced her to turn with him to face the bespectacled woman... and half her class. "Sen, what happened?" her teacher asked.

"This girl was touching a priceless, ancient artifact. I caught her red-handed!" the guard replied, shaking Chihiro's captive wrist as evidence.

Her teacher looked appalled. Chihiro felt her face turn bright pink as the other students began to whisper amongst themselves, aiming quick looks at her that ranged from incredulous to resigned, like they had been expecting she'd screw _something_ over.

"That's Sen for you," Lee whispered to his friend. He thought he was being quiet.

The girl turned bright red.

**.oOo.**

A few minutes later, Chihiro sat in a chair outside the museum curator's office, face burning with shame as she listened to the shouting match taking place inside. Kyo and Torahime Makoto, the owners of a large Shinto shrine atop a larger hill on the outskirts of town, were an imperious pair and very hard to please. It seemed the curator had a taste for abuse too, though.

"You called us all the way down here just because she touched some dusty old figurine?" Torahime was yelling. "It seems hardly worth our time! We're busy people!"

Chihiro flinched. Although the woman was in her late forties and sporting more grey hair than black, Mrs. Makoto was in her third trimester of pregnancy and about to pop – with her temper, in more ways than one.

"Dusty old figurine?! It's a priceless artifact!" the curator shouted back.

"Is it damaged?"

"No, but –!"

"Then if you must meticulously _wipe_ off her fingerprints, send us the rag and we'll swat her with it. What do you want us to do?!"

"Hold on."

At the sound of Mr. Makoto's calm, regal voice, Chihiro wished the floor would open and swallow her up. When that man spoke – which wasn't often – no matter who you were, you listened. Not that he needed to talk that much. At fifty years old and the descendant through a line of great priests, his presence dominated a room, and when he spoke the air around him gained ten pounds.

As she knew it would, silence fell.

"What was the sculpture of?" Mr. Makoto asked.

The curator cleared her throat nervously. "Ah, it was a white jade dragon, dated all the way back to –"

"A dragon? Well, that explains it."

Chihiro curled into a writhing ball of shame atop her seat. This was just too much.

Silence from the room. In her mind's eye, she pictured Mr. Makoto getting up, brushing off his robes, and bowing respectfully. "Thank you for your time, Miss Curator," she heard him say. "Please send us any bills that arise from this catastrophic incident, and rest assured that we will make sure Sen does not touch any more priceless ancient artifacts. If you will excuse us?"

In spite of herself, Chihiro smiled. She could almost see the curator's furious blush. When the priest said it like that, all that commotion really did seem stupid.

"A-All right."

The door opened. Chihiro struggled to resume a natural position on her chair, only to shrink back when Mrs. Makoto came out first and shot her a glare that could peel paint.

"Thank you. You are very gracious," Mr. Makoto said, bowing back into the room.

He shut the door, and gazed at Chihiro.

She met his gaze, shaking worse than when she had met Yubaba for the first time. That bulbous-headed hag of a witch had frightened her with threats of magic and her ghastly appearance, but other than being slightly on the pudgy side, Kyo Makoto was relatively handsome for a fifty year old man. It was the weight of those _eyes_ that shamed her. They were old, and intelligent... _too_ intelligent. Meeting his gaze made Chihiro feel like an idiot child, or maybe a cockroach.

Luckily, Mr. Makoto knew that look was enough punishment for anyone.

He turned away without a word.

Chihiro let out the breath she didn't realize she had been holding and hurried after her foster parents.

**.oOo.**

The car ride home was silent.

Chihiro was silent, too. She knew she'd escaped serious punishment, and she wasn't out of the doghouse yet; the air was heavy with that all-too-familiar tension between parent and child after said child did something wrong. She hoped she could just stay silent, play dumb, and then disappear for a couple hours when they got back to the temple, to give the PMSing Mrs. some time to cool down. The grounds were big enough; she could probably pull it off.

Still, looking at the backs of two adults in the front seats of a car.

The memories came unbidden to Chihiro.

"_**A new house, a new school, it **_**is**_** a bit scary."**_

"_**I think I can handle it," ten-year old Chihiro replied.**_

**.**


	3. Memories

**Chapter 3:**

**Memories**

_-Still, looking at the backs of two adults in the front seat of a car._

_The memories came unbidden to Chihiro.-_

"_**A new home and a new school, it **_**is**_** a bit scary."**_

"_**I think I can handle it," ten-year old Chihiro replied.**_

_** She and her parents had finally escaped the spirit realm, and her father's four-wheel drive rumbled along the forest floor like a trundling badger. The engine was making a heck of a lot of noise, though.**_

_** COUGH**_**, **_**wheeeeeeeeze...**_

_**The car stuttered and jerked. Chihiro yelped in surprise as she was nearly thrown into the front with her parents; she hastily reached for her seat belt as the car began to buck.**_

_** Her dad scowled. "What the –?" He pressed on the gas again, even tried playing with the windshield wipers. "What's **_**with**_** this thing today?" The vehicle crept a few inches forward, hacking like it had some kind of oil-tuberculosis.**_

_** Chihiro actually turned her head around to search for her seat belt. She didn't see anything, though; just a rotted strip of fabric laying over the top of her seat. And **_**that**_** couldn't be it.**_

_** "Honey, stop it!" his wife told him.**_

_** That's when the car choked out its pained last words. The engine quit, and everything died.**_

_** "Oh, great."**_

_** "What happened?" Chihiro asked, leaning over the seat. She looked out the windshield. "Was the forest this thick on the way in?"**_

_** That was when she should have realized something was wrong.**_

_** Her parents didn't seem to hear, though. Mr. Ogino shifted around to open the door; no sooner had he touched the handle there was an earsplitting metallic screech. The door bent back, then fell right off its hinges.**_

_** All three Oginos stared for a moment.**_

_** Chihiro's dad cleared his throat, then said a little hoarsely, "Looks like we're walking."**_

_** A few minutes later, the little family was hiking through thick jungle hauling all of their personal effects. Chihiro, toting her own little suitcase, tried to shake off a vine from her shoe and tripped sideways over an overgrown root. "AH!"**_

_** Her shoulder connected hard with the tree and pushed her back on balance. Chihiro staggered and kept walking. "I **_**know**_** the forest wasn't this thick on the way in!" she insisted.**_

_** "Just keep walking, honey. We'll be there soon," her mother called back. The trees were thinning, and sunlight began to filter through the lush greenery. Her face brightened. "Ah, a new home! I'm so looking forward to walking into that little blue..."**_

_** The forest ended.**_

_** They all looked up the hill. "...house."**_

_** There was no little blue house atop that hill. Wildflowers dotted a steep sea of rippling green blades, surrounding what looked like a huge, beautiful temple protected by high stone walls. Chihiro gaped, then glanced at the tree the car had passed when they had driven into the forest. The tree was noticeably bigger, the little shrines still in their place. However, they had been dusted off and looked well-kept, not lying in a mishmash and covered in moss.**_

_** "What in the world?!" her mother cried.**_

_** Soon, the family stared from the outside in into the massive courtyard of a beautiful, ornate temple. Four great, white-walled buildings stood on two sides, with beautiful red wood in the sliding doors and floorboards. Gold inlay gleamed on the curved roofs. Across the stone courtyard, more gold glowed in the sunlight, on the most beautiful building of all; the temple itself. Several people were scattered across the clean stones, sweeping or talking or just sitting. Cherry trees were in full bloom behind the scintillating display, scattering their petals into the wind like bits of pink silk. A glittering fountain stood as the centerpiece of it all.**_

_** Chihiro was dazzled.**_

_** She glanced at the nameplate on the side of the gate as her parents stared. "Ma... koto," she sounded out, cautiously touching the characters.**_

_** The plate was shining copper, worn smooth as silk to the touch. Suddenly, something made Chihiro pause and look closer. The tiniest nooks and crannies of the plate – the ones that always escaped the cleaning rag no matter how carefully it was cleaned – were speckled with green and black rust. And that slightly uneven sheen to the metal. This copper was very, **_**very**_** old.**_

_** "Hello."**_

_** Chihiro turned. Her parents started.**_

_** A man stood in front of them as if he had appeared by magic. His face was wise and clean-shaven, with his white hair slicked and tied back in a neat horsetail. He wore the robes of an everyday Shinto priest, but there was something about him that made Chihiro want to bow and confess her every misgiving; it was a strange sensation, not entirely welcome in a ten-year old child.**_

_** But he was the one to bow. "I am Kyo Makoto, head priest and caretaker of this temple, as my father was before me. It is a pleasure to meet you."**_

_** Despite the situation, all three Oginos hastily bowed back. "No, no... the pleasure is ours!"**_

_** Chihiro's father glanced up hesitantly, uncertain whether he should straighten or not. "Um, Mr. Makoto?"**_

_** The priest straightened; his guests hastened to do the same. "Yes?"**_

_** "May I ask you a question?"**_

_** "Of course. I will answer within the best of my knowledge."**_

_** Mr. Ogino unconsciously bowed again. "Um, can you perhaps give us directions? We were supposed to move into our new house today... but I think we got lost." He rummaged in his pocket. "Maybe we came out of that forest in the wrong place –**_

_** "Oh, here we go."**_

_** Chihiro watched her dad pull a scrap of paper out of his pants and offer it to the priest. The man named Makoto took it, unfolding it slowly and deliberately. "It's our new house address. Do you know where it is? Oh, and a decent car rental. Ours just randomly fell apart down the road, isn't that just strange?"**_

_** Mr. Makoto gazed at the paper with such an intensity, Chihiro nearly expected it to burst into a fiery inferno of...**_

_** "Did I hear your names?"**_

_** Chihiro jumped at his sudden reanimation.**_

_** Apparently, so had her father, because he cleared his throat awkwardly before answering: "Oh, no. My apologizes. My name is Akio Ogino, and this my wife Yuko and my daughter, Chihiro." He glanced at said daughter. "Say hello, Chihiro."**_

_** "Oh!" Chihiro bowed quickly, ponytail flying over her head. "It's very nice to meet you!"**_

_** The atmosphere seemed to darken, for some unexpected reason. The little girl swallowed, suddenly feeling fat and clumsy and dirty. Like a very young, very stupid child. Unexpected and unwanted.**_

_** Then, Mr. Makoto seemed to soften. He bobbed his head at her: "Likewise, Miss Chihiro."**_

_** The pressure lightened, and Chihiro could breathe easy again as Mr. Makoto turned to her parents. "You'd best come in. My wife, Torahime, will pour you tea... the things I have to say may come as a shock."**_

_** Chihiro and her parents followed hesitantly. "Well, please keep it as short as possible," her mother requested meekly. The man's presence was dominating, even when his back was turned. "We want to get there before the movers."**_

_** The head priest suddenly stopped.**_

_** He hesitated, then sighed... as if resigning himself to a terrible truth, and turned to face them. "You may take your time here, Mistress Yuko." He showed them the address that he still had clutched in his fingers. "Because this house...**_

_** "...This house was torn down nearly eighty years ago."**_

"Chihiro."

Mr. Makoto's voice yanked her back to the present. "Ah, yes sir?!"

The old priest chuckled. "Daydreaming again, are we, my child?"

Chihiro sighed. There was just no sense in lying to Kyo Makoto; the man could smell a lie like one of the temple hounds could smell robbers. Or bacon. "Just... remembering."

"You seem to be doing that a lot lately."

It was just a simple statement, but Chihiro felt her face flush with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again."

"Of course it will."

The girl flinched. Like _bacon_.

Still, she felt him smile. The tension in the car relaxed. "It's all right. Memories are the true keepsakes of our lives. If we did not relive the past, how would we learn for the future?" Chihiro shrank inside her skin, reliving the shame outside the curator's office.

But suddenly, as if she could read her mind, Mrs. Makoto snapped. "I honestly _cannot_ believe you, Chihiro! How could you be such an _airhead_ as to do something like that?!"

"I'm sorry, ma'am!"

"And then we had to drive _all the way down_ here –!"

"I'm sorry, ma'am!" Chihiro bowed her head, although the woman wasn't even looking. They didn't call her the Matriarch for nothing. "It won't happen again!"

The Matriarch sniffed.

"Hmph. Make sure it doesn't." Then, as if a switch was flicked, the woman's voice took on a different tone; almost pleasant. "Now, what must you do before you visit Lord Kohaku?"

"Clean the floors of the temple, dust the windows, sweep the front step, take inventory for tonight's dinner, scrub the tubs in both the trainee's quarters," Chihiro rattled off automatically.

"And?"

Chihiro wilted. "Help serve dinner?"

"And?!"

Oh no, not the double whammy _and._ "Help clean up." _Please, PLEASE don't go for the triple whammy_, she begged silently.

Apparently, the woman seemed appeased. "Good girl."

Chihiro sighed in relief.

"Oh, and dust off the shrines too."

The girl suppressed a groan. She'd gone for the triple.

**.**


	4. Makoto Temple

**Chapter 4:**

**Makoto Temple**

_-"Now, what must you do before you visit Master Kohaku?"_

_ "Clean the floors of the temple, dust the windows, sweep the front step, take inventory for tonight's dinner, scrub the tubs in both the trainee's quarters," Chihiro rattled off automatically._

_ "And?"_

_ Chihiro wilted. "Help serve dinner?"_

_ "And?!"_

_ Oh no, not the double whammy __and.__ "Help clean up." __Please, PLEASE don't go for the triple whammy__, she begged silently. __I won't finish until dark!_

_ But the woman seemed appeased. "Good girl."_

_ Chihiro sighed in relief._

_ "Oh, and dust off the shrines too."_

_ The girl suppressed a groan. She'd gone for the triple.-_

When they arrived at the temple, Chihiro immediately sprinted from the car, ran up the hill, and tore across the courtyard into the first building on the right side of the grounds, yanked open the door and shut it just as quickly, then banged up the long flight of stairs to her room. Once inside, she stripped off her uniform and pulled on her temple work clothes. But, however desperate she was to attack her triple whammy chores, Chihiro had learned above anything else to _never_ leave her clothes on the floor. She picked up her school uniform shirt and skirt, flapped them to shake off any loose debris, and laid them neatly on her bed before sprinting out of the room, long chestnut ponytail whipping behind her.

Above her head, somebody struck a gong. Two flat tolls verberated through the floorboards. Chihiro redoubled her pace; it was two o' clock already.

She dashed out of the building and back into the courtyard, skipping quickly across the stones in her bare feet. "Eee, ah, oh!" Finally, she reached the beautiful, gold-laced temple itself. She hopped up the steps, shaking loose a pebble from her foot.

Saki was already there, wringing excess water out of a cleaning pad back into the bucket. "You're back early again, Sen," she observed. "Did you do something crazy again?"

Chihiro turned red. "I touched a three thousand-year old dragon statue."

"_Geez_, Sen, what's with you and dragons? For Priest Makoto's adoptive daughter, you can be pretty clueless sometimes. I mean, you could _stand_ coming back from _one_ school trip without any accidents."

Chihiro grabbed a pad for herself, dipping it in the bucket. "I know, I know." She wrung it out.

"Well, what's done is done." Saki slapped her damp pad onto the floorboards, and suddenly aimed a wicked grin at Chihiro. "Race you."

Chihiro slapped her pad down too. "You're on."

They got in racing position. "Three..."

"TwooneGO!"

They raced ahead at the same time. Chihiro grinned as they tore around the corners, neck in neck. Doing chores with Saki was always entertaining.

They'd met several years ago, when the dark-haired girl had become a female trainee – going through schooling in priesthood, discipline, and the spiritual arts – with the Makoto temple. They'd lived in the same building and been best friends ever since. Chihiro knew they'd separate after her next birthday, though; trainees that were seventeen and older lived in different dorms than younger ones. In fact, Chihiro wasn't even a trainee. Mr. Makoto had never suggested it, so she never thought about it... and besides, with high school, homework, and chores already on her plate, Chihiro never really even had time for a social life outside of the temple grounds.

"And it's Saki by a nose!"

Chihiro grinned and swatted down her pad like a gauntlet. "I want a rematch!"

Saki smiled back. "Fine!" she accepted, getting back into racing position. She waggled her upraised butt at Chihiro. "You're gonna eat my dust, Sen!"

The brunette dropped her pad in the bucket. "As soon as we wring our rags out again."

Saki glanced back, sheepish. "Oh. Yeah."

**.oOo.**

"Mmm, that salmon was _amazing. _Nice job in the kitchen."

"Thanks!"

Chihiro and Saki exited the dining hall with a mingling crowd of other priests and trainees, bellies full of tea and sushi as they talked quietly. The sun had set while they had been eating. Now a hazy silver crescent crept up the eastern horizon, shining with surprising contrast to the dark fuchsia sky. Nightfall was approaching quickly in the shorter autumn days.

Saki glanced at her friend. "You sound excited. Going to see a boy?"

Chihiro smiled, unseen in the reaching pink shadows. She wasn't _too_ far off. "No, I only have one more chore," she replied, stretching happily. "Mmmm, triple whammies really take it out of me."

"Ouch! A triple? You know some guy got _six_ of them yesterday?" Normal temples punished mistakes by paddling – but the Matriarch had found that the concept of endless lists of manual labor was much more effective than that of a simple wooden paddle. And so had emerged the term "whammy" amongst the trainees of the Makoto temple. "Gotta feel sorry for that baby she's carrying. I bet you ten bucks it'll be born with horns."

Suddenly, a cool breeze swept across Chihiro's face.

Without thinking, she inhaled. With the scents of sap and the coming night chill, the air promised a hastened nightfall. She'd have to hurry to dust off the shrines before dark. After _that_ experience first entering the spirit realm, Chihiro never liked to be outside after moonrise.

"Yeah. I'm sorry, Saki, I have to go! I'll see you later!" She began to run.

Saki barely had time to reply, "Um, yeah! Okay," before Chihiro was halfway across the courtyard, in a full sprint for the gate.

The girl rattled down the steps and jumped onto the path. Immediately, she leapt to the side and cut back across the waving blades of grass, heading directly for the straggly tree that the shrine lay under. She leaned far back to counterbalance the steep slope.

But apparently she leaned a little too far back. One of her feet slipped, and she landed _hard_ on her behind. "OW! OH N..._WAAAAAAAHHH_!"

She slid all the way down the hill on her butt, the long green grass nicking and burning her bare hands and calves as she raced past them. Chihiro's chestnut hair was almost blown completely back from her face when; _BUMP._ Her bum bounced off a hidden rock, sending her into a full-blown somersault down the hill, and it only took a few revolutions for her long, willowy legs to get in the way. Chihiro got her feet under her only a few seconds from hitting the forest road, staggered desperately onto the path, and slammed face first into the tree.

"OW!"

Chihiro stayed there for a moment.

Eventually, the bark stopped spinning. She peeled her face off the trunk, panting and shaky from that unexpected exercise. Still, she made her way around the tree on wobbly knees.

As she walked, the shrines came into view.

_**"What are those stones? They look like little houses."**_

_** "They're shrines. Some people think little spirits live there."**_

Chihiro's face became a blank slate. It always did when she saw the little stone houses. Her emotions just became too twisted for any one expression.

She began to pick the leaves off those little roofs.

_**"Yuko, what are you thinking?!"**_

_** "Akio, unless the whole **_**world**_** is playing a prank on us, which I really doubt is the case, Chihiro might have been telling the truth!"**_

_** Chihiro squirmed, kicking the sheets of the fluffy queen-sized bed Mrs. Makoto had tucked her in. Upon finding that what the old priest had said was true, she'd had no choice but to tell her parents what had happened in the spirit realm. Mr. Makoto had been present the entire time. However, unlike her parents – who were constantly interrupting with scoffs and disbelief – the man had listened carefully to the ten-year old girl. Afterwards, he had asked his wife to get Chihiro their best guest bed and tuck her in.**_

_** "The poor girl's had quite a day," he had said. She didn't even think he was mocking her.**_

_** But now, Chihiro could hear her parents discussing that conversation at the top of their lungs, every word clear as a bell in her young ears.**_

_** "Honestly, dear?" her father was saying. "We were in a 'spirit world?' We were turned into pigs, and that's why we don't remember anything?! A bathhouse for monsters run by a witch named Yubaba, and the incarnation of a river she almost drowned in years ago? What'd she call him, Kaku?"**_

_** "**_**Haku!**_**" Chihiro whispered indignantly.**_

_** "No, what she needs is a good doctor. I don't know what happened in that tunnel, but it certainly wasn't anything like that!"**_

_** And so, the Oginos' stay at the Makoto temple stretched to a week, then a month, then six as Chihiro's parents took her to doctor after doctor. Mrs. Makoto was certainly less tolerating of the "freeloaders," as she came to call them, but her husband always managed to silence her with a single look, saying to just be patient.**_

_** But when Chihiro was telling the same story to every doctor she saw, without changing a single detail and adamant that it had been real, her parents started to become truly concerned for her mental health. One night, when their conversations kept her awake, Chihiro crept out of her bed, found pencils and paper, and drew a picture.**_

_** In the morning, Yuko and Akio found her asleep at a desk, with the unfinished drawing of a green-haired boy with a kind expression. When they asked her about it that afternoon, she replied that it was Haku.**_

_** The psychiatrist's diagnosis came back the next day. It stated that their child was mentally disturbed, and should be checked in to a special institute for such children. The conversation that night was one that Chihiro would never forget.**_

_** "...What are we going to **_**do,**_** Akio?"**_

_** Silence.**_

_** "I guess we're going to have to check her in."**_

_** "What?! What are you thinking? Put our only child in a mental hospital?! There's got to be something else we can do!"**_

_** Her father hesitated. "There is one thing." **_

_**Chihiro's ears burned, but she couldn't hear what he said next.**_

_** "What?!" her mother suddenly exclaimed. "Don't you think we've intruded on these people enough, Akio? And to do that to Chihiro –?!"**_

_** "Yuko."**_

_** Both Chihiro and her mother were startled by his tone of voice. It was torn, confused, on the edge of tears.**_

_** "It's either that, or the nuthouse for our only child."**_

_** Through the wall, Chihiro could almost hear the gears turning inside her parents' heads. Dread and curiosity made her blood run cold. What were they...?**_

_** "We'll ask him in the morning."**_

_** A week later, Chihiro was turned over into the care of the Makoto family. It took another week to get the adoption papers signed. And finally... it happened. On a cloudy Saturday, under a solid grey sky, she exchanged tearful hugs with her parents at the gate of Makoto Temple. Goodbyes. I love yous.**_

_** It was heart wrenching.**_

_** However, it wasn't as bad as Chihiro had envisioned it. Looking back, she supposed she had grown apart from her parents, in the months that they had insisted she was delusional. It certainly hadn't helped their relationship, anyway.**_

_** But even then, as she watched her parents drive away in their rental car, Chihiro was still adamant that the spirit realm was real. It was real as the drizzling rain that slowly begun to fall. However, this time, it was different. This was the human world, bound by cold laws and restrictions, and this was really and truly the last time she would see her parents.**_

_** Tears welled over in her eyes.**_

_** Chihiro felt Mr. Makoto's gaze boring a hole in the side of her head, but for once she didn't care. She cried and cried. The sky shed tears for her, as well. Mrs. Makoto laid a hand on her shoulder. It was a comforting touch, a rare show of affection even back then. But it only made Chihiro cry harder.**_

_** Thunder boomed quietly in the distance.**_

_** Mr. Makoto took in breath to speak. Chihiro unconsciously fell silent, to her surprise. She stopped crying and looked up at the old priest with swollen eyes.**_

_** "Over the last eighty years, the mysterious disappearance of the Ogino family has become a local legend in these parts," he said. He made a small, aged gesture towards the forest. "They call that place 'haunted' as a result. A popular destination for thrillseekers, the curious and frankly, the morbid. **_**We**_** will call you Chihiro, of course," he brushed Torahime's arm, "but it would be wise for you to take another name when among the masses. People would look at you rather strangely, don't you think, if you live here and are named for the girl who was spirited away in those woods? So.**_

_** "What would you like to be called?"**_

_** Chihiro thought about it.**_

_** She sniffed, wiping away the last of her tears. Maybe she'd never reach the spirit realm again, but she at least wanted one connection to it. With a new home and a new life came a new name.**_

_** "Sen," she replied. "I want to be called Sen."**_

Chihiro picked up the last leaf.

She took a quick glance at it. Red, orange, and yellow, bleached to pastel colors in the moonlight. Beautiful. Reluctantly, she relinquished her token to the wind, and watched it as it danced through the cool night air and over its father tree. It made a full revolution around the trunk, as if bidding it goodbye… and was swept into the "haunted" forest.

As it melted into the shadows, Chihiro suddenly jumped.

Night had fallen!

Her heart leaped in her chest as she took off running. The moon was almost completely overhead. Its eerie light made the grass and trees cast strange figures of black upon the landscape, and Chihiro's eyes darted like panicked dragonflies, scouring the darkness for the formless shadows that might have traversed the tunnel, following her into the human world...!

Chihiro reached the foot of the temple steps, racing up them three at a time. She tripped twice and banged her knee, but finally, she raced past the Makoto nameplate and into the sanctuary of its courtyard. But the girl didn't stop; she dashed across the stones, frantic footsteps echoing rambunctiously around the deserted open area. Fear gave way to excitement as she approached the fountain in the center of the courtyard.

"I'm here, Haku!" she called.

She slapped her hands on the edge of the fountain and looked in, smiling as she greeted an old friend.

The Kohaku River.

**.**


	5. Living Waters

**Chapter 5:**

**Living Waters**

_ -"I'm here, Haku!" she called._

_ She slapped her hands on the edge of the fountain and looked in, smiling as she greeted an old friend._

_ The Kohaku River.-_

Water from an underground river flowed just as clean as one on the surface. It sparkled like crystal in the crescent moon, pouring from seven spouts into a small pool several feet across. Ripples spread in overlapping circles over the calm surface of dark, diamond-blue water, only to break on the inside of the pool's upraised marble wall. Peering over the edge, Chihiro couldn't see the bottom even on a sunny day. The pool was beautiful in itself, but that wasn't her favorite part.

Her favorite part was the _dragon_, of course. The gleaming copper coils of the great creature arched over the pool, its paws and forepaws braced protectively on opposing sides of the wall – as if shielding the water from an unseen enemy – and its head held regally towards the moon, an old look in its golden eyes. The entire length of the metal creature gleamed bright as the sun; akin to the Makoto nameplate, polishing the centerpiece of the courtyard was one of Torahime's favorite whammy punishments. Not that anyone complained. Despite the matriarch's iron rule over the trainees, the fountain was always an aesthetic pleasure no matter how weary a person became.

But this fountain had an even deeper meaning to Chihiro. After she had been taken in by the temple and enrolled in school, Mrs. Makoto had mentioned in passing something about an underground river. Despite the odds, Chihiro had had to ask. The Priest himself had confirmed it. The temple fountain flowed with groundwater, siphoned from the supposedly dead river Kohaku.

Whether it was by coincidence or fate, she didn't care. On that day – and every day that followed – that fountain was Chihiro's solace. Every free moment was spent on, near, or in that cool, beautiful pool; in spring, she sketched in notebooks and studied literature as she leaned against its wall. In summer, she cooled her body with handfuls of its water. In autumn, even if it wasn't on her chore list, Chihiro cleared debris from its golden scales and fished renegade leaves out of the pool before they sank out of sight. And every winter morning, she would get up with the sun, bundle herself against the cold, and go outside. She brushed frost off its copper scales and chipped away any ice that had accumulated during the night, checked each of the seven spouts for blockage, and only _then_ got ready for the day.

In a way, this structure was her world. A bridge from her new life back to her old... and although she would never completely forget the events that changed her existence, taking care of the fountain sustained her and gave her peace.

Like Haku had.

Chihiro's reflection grinned back at her, shaky on the rippling blue surface. "I went to a museum today. It had an entire wing dedicated to dragons!" she said. "It was nice, until I spaced out and touched some three-thousand-year old statue of some pompous reptile. She looks nothing like you, don't worry.

"Now everyone at school with be talking about me again." She sighed. "Ugh! I _really_ don't want to go to school tomorrow!"

Chihiro started and blushed, properly chastised. "Not that anything they say _matters_! But it's just a human thing. You know."

Suddenly, she stopped. A human thing.

Haku was a spirit. He _wouldn't_ know, would he?

Chihiro felt herself wilt. She hunched her shoulders, leaning against the wall for support. Finally, she felt the events of the day catching up with her. She was exhausted, both emotionally and physically. And Haki couldn't help her... he was a world away.

Her eyes overfull, Chihiro summoned the last scrap of her energy. She reached out, and very gently brushed her fingertips over the water. New ripples appeared, quick and sure, retreating from her touch like she was some kind of virus.

Tears fell into the pool.

"I hope you're okay. Over there in the spirit realm..."

Chihiro's tears continued to fall. She gripped the wall of the fountain, its smooth edges digging at the creases of her fingers, but not cutting them. It hurt to remember; it always did.

_"Memories are the true keepsakes of our lives. If we did not relive the past, how would we learn for the future?"_

The girl hastily rubbed away the tears with her other hand.

She quickly banished such depressing thoughts. The old priest was right. Her memories were part of her, and whether they hurt or not, they would always be there. She _would_ relive the past, and learn for the future.

-_The future…?-_

Chihiro nearly jumped out of her skin. "W-Who said that?!" she yelped.

She immediately clapped a hand over her mouth. She flinched again and again with each echo, her cry growing louder and louder as it bounced off the courtyard stones. For one bone-chilling moment, she thought she heard the Matriarch's slow, impregnated steps, coming to give her the whammy of a lifetime...!

Suddenly, the water sent a shock through her hand, so powerful her vision flickered white.

Magic.

_Chihiro was engulfed by ethereal black smoke. She was more terrified than she'd every been in her life, although she had no idea why. She smelled fire. Not a homey wood fire, but a hot, ravenous inferno that destroyed and claimed lives. Wails drifted through murky gaps in the smoke. She couldn't hear what they were saying - the smoke twisted her mind, kept their meaning from her._

_ Was this a nightmare?_

_ No, it felt too real! Those people were in trouble!_

_ Chihiro stepped forward and tried to cry out to them... but suddenly, a stabbing pain pierced her ankle. It sizzled inside her flesh, so cold it was burning her blood. She collapsed, screaming. There was a sound, like arrows slicing through the air with deadly precision._

_ Three razor-sharp points pierced her heart._

_ She choked. She stared at the huge, gaping hole in her chest. Then, Chihiro fell to the ground. She lay sprawled there, like a broken doll._

_ She was dead._

**.**


	6. A Dragon's Foresight

**Chapter 6:**

**A Dragon's Foresight**

_-Chihiro stepped forward and tried to cry out to them... but suddenly, a stabbing pain pierced her ankle. It sizzled inside her flesh, so cold it was burning her blood. She collapsed, screaming. There was a sound, like a bullet slicing through the air._

_ A thick, razor-sharp point pierced her heart._

_ She choked, staring at the huge, gaping hole in her chest. Then, Chihiro fell to the ground. She lay sprawled there, like a broken doll._

_ She was dead.-_

* * *

Haku sat bolt upright, gasping like a fish_._

He threw off the bedsheets, hand clamped over his mouth, feet pounding on the cold floor as he raced for the bathroom.

Once there, he slammed the door, cast a spell against eavesdroppers, and violently brought up the entire contents of his stomach into the sink. The river spirit gagged, staggering. His knees wobbled. He was barely able to position his head over the toilet before spraying what felt like a waterfall of digestive juices.

Haku sat down hard on the floor, staring up at the ceiling through streaming eyes. Lungs heaving, he tried to catch his breath, throat stinging viciously with merely the passage of air. Haku waited for his stomach to stop rolling, trying not to gag at the stench of vomit and feeling like he was being burned alive by his own body heat.

A few minutes passed.

Finally – when he felt like he could handle it – Haku tried to stand.

His legs, although shaky, held. He braced himself against the wall and began to make his slow way back to the sink, hobbling like an old man.

Haku paused briefly to turn on the faucet. The clear, cool water began to flow, washing his mess down the drain as the river spirit braced both hands on either side of the sink. He looked up, panting, at his reflection in the mirror.

An unhealthy-looking young man of sixteen or seventeen stared back. He looked like he hadn't slept for weeks, face gaunt and hollow-cheeked, drenched in cold sweat, with deep purple stains under feverish emerald eyes. The only thing Haku recognized of himself in that poor wretch in the mirror was his long, dark green hair, bangs cut in a straight line low over his forehead, two locks neatly framing that sweaty, corpselike face. The rest of it draped over his back; when he stood, the tips would just brush his elbows. But even his most defining characteristic had been wasted by these seizures. Its healthy volume was gone, as was its sheen, hanging dull and limp no matter how he took care of it.

Haku snarled.

He gripped the mirror and hurled it across the room. It shattered on the opposite wall. Gleaming shards flew everywhere, splinters burying themselves in the walls and scattering around the floor. The river spirit slapped his palms back down on the sink, eyes glaring down at the floor with fury and helplessness.

He'd been having the same dream every night, and every _single_ night it was followed by bouts of cold sweat and horrible vomiting. _Every night _for an entire _month_.

And it was always the same; a young woman, fifteen maybe, being stabbed in the ankle and then the heart. She would always die... no matter how hard he yelled, no matter how fast he ran, no matter what he did.

Haku bit the inside of his cheek. He tasted blood.

Another rolling wave of nausea hit him. The spirit clamped his mouth shut, trying to relax his abdominal muscles against the seizing, and stuck his hands under the faucet, splashing his face with cool water. That helped a bit, but he didn't relax until the urge was completely gone.

Finally, Haku took a breath.

He smacked his lips and grimaced. Another handful of water went to wash out his mouth, and more went into his belly. The dragon wiped his lips, shaking off droplets, and left the bathroom, removing the spell against eavesdroppers as he went. The shattered mirror… he left as it was.

Upon return to his quarters, Haku shut the door quietly.

Then he slid down the threshold. The river spirit pressed down his eyes with the heels of his hands, trying to stop their stinging. It had been weeks since he'd had a decent night's sleep. He'd only had three in his entire long lifespan... but he _hated_ visions.

_Knock, knock._

Haku jumped before the foreman's voice reached his ears. "Master Haku! Are you awake?"

The young man glanced towards his shutters. Grey predawn light gleamed faintly through the slats. It had to be 4 o' clock in the morning! Haku scowled, letting his irritation bleed into his reply.

"What. Do you _want_?"

The foreman hesitated, nervous at his tone. "Ah, sir, Yubaba wants to see you."

What did that old hag want at this ungodly hour of the morning? Haku rubbed his eyes... but he couldn't help it. He was still under contract.

"All right, give me a minute."

"Please hurry. She's in one of her moods."

"Great," Haku replied as the footsteps hurried away. He forced himself up, muscles creaking, and began to strip off his sweat-soaked garments; outerwear _and_ underwear. He tossed them into the hamper for the laundry spirits to pick up – unlike regular employees, Haku didn't have to wash his own clothes – and pulled on his bathhouse uniform.

He started to go out the door, but he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and paused. The uniform hung loose on his body.

The green-haired spirit frowned. It had fit him before.

He'd have to fix that later. By himself, though... taking it to the bathhouse tailor would raise too many questions. He could just imagine the rumors that would start flying around once they saw what the vomiting, sleep deprivation, and stress of the nightmares had done to his body. It would be the scandal for months to come. And then people would start _pitying_ him.

Haku fixed his mouth in its usual stern, no-nonsense frown and opened the door.

The only sounds in the bathhouse were those of his own footsteps, echoing authoritatively over the sleepy quiet. Pretty much the entire staff was still abed, after all. Haku quickly navigated through the massive, empty bathing floors. The dry baths, the dark hallways, the silent air. Avoiding the servant's quarters altogether, several elevators later he emerged on the top floor. His dull green hair fluttered as the river spirit exited the little box and turned sharply towards the door.

He marched up the steps and reached for the golden knocker with the ease of practice.

"_Hey_!" it shouted at him. "Talk about a rude awakening! You should at least have the manners to wake someone before you start grabbing their _face_!"

Haku scowled at the knocker. "Stop talking. I am not in the mood, and no one would be the least upset with me for adjusting _your_ haggish features."

"Why you –!"

"_**SHUUUUT UUUUP!**_" Yubaba shrieked.

The door was blown open, buffeting Haku with the reek of tobacco and wood smoke. The river spirit stared flatly into the monsoon, hair flying back from his shoulders.

Then, the storm stopped as suddenly as it had begun. Yubaba's sighed echoed from deep within, enhanced by magic. "Ugh, it's too early for this!" Haku heard her say. "Get in here, Haku... and leave the attitude outside!"

The young man obeyed, signature frown back in place. He marched through several ornate foyers, down a carpeted hallway, took a right, and made his entrance into Yubaba's office.

"You wanted to see me?" he asked.

The office was dark. There were no windows, and the fire hadn't yet been stoked for the work day, so the only light came from a single guttering lamp on Yubaba's desk. The old witch herself was leaning back in her chair, facing away from him; _not_ counting money for once. A big black bird with the head of an old woman cleaned her feathers. It noticed Haku, and squawked a warning. Yubaba turned in her chair, a cigarette hanging from the edge of her drooping mouth.

"Haku!" Her eyes narrowed at him. "Are you sick? You look worse every day."

"I'm sorry if that displeases you."

The monstrous old woman took a long draw on her cigarette. "What's wrong with you, kid?" she grouched. "Do you _want_ to scare customers away?!" Three large, green heads unrolled from the corner, bouncing around the river spirit as if to make sure it was him.

"_Hai_... hoh... _hoy._..?"

Haku had had almost enough of this. "You _wanted_ to see me?"

The heads quit jumping, seeming to catch wind of his irritation, and beat a hasty retreat behind Yubaba's desk.

The old witch scowled, but nodded. "Yes, I did."

The river spirit scowled back. "Well?"

Yubaba frowned deeper, but seemed to sense no disrespect. Haku was patient, she'd give him that.

"I know your true form is a dragon," she said, "and I have heard just recently that most dragons have precognitive abilities. They can see into the future."

Haku's face was unreadable.

Yubaba squinted at him, daring him to lie. "Is that true?"

"Yes. Most dragons can see bits and pieces of what is to come."

"I knew it!" the witch crowed, brandishing her cigarette like a victory banner. Then she hesitated; his wording had seemed off. "Wait. What do you mean?" she demanded. "You mean it's not voluntary?!"

Haku scowled. "Only the choicest and very greatest of dragonkind can control their visions, Yubaba."

The witch leaned forward, smiling. She blew a smoke cloud at him. Haku's face twisted in disgust.

"Can you?"

The dragon snarled. "If I could, I_ would._"

Yubaba's smile disappeared. "My my, so hostile." She sat back, dragging on her cancer stick again. "Well, I guess you're useless to me, then."

Haku blinked. The old hag almost looked... concerned. _About what?_ he wondered. _What would have Yubaba worried about the future?_ "Don't you have a crystal ball of your own?" he asked flatly. "You have scrying powers. Can't you use those to get the answers you seek?"

Her bulbous eyes narrowed at him. "Don't give me _cheek_, boy! I've been trying!"

It had to be important, then. "And?"

The end of her cigarette flared, reflecting as a glowing red spot in Yubaba's eyes. "Something's blocking me. Something powerful."

"A spirit that can block scrying magic?" Haku asked, incredulous. "What could do something like that? They'd have to know _exactly_ what you're looking for."

"_DON'T YOU THINK I KNOW ALL THAT?!_" Yubaba screamed, sparks flying from her mouth.

"I've been sensing something's coming for days! Its presence just kept getting stronger and stronger and _stronger_!" Yubaba's fists slammed onto the desk, disrupting jewels and papers; a hot wind pulled white strands out of her smooth bun. Her bird flew away in terror, the heads rolling frantically away. Haku stood his ground. "No spirit can just _erase_ its presence like that! And when I try to scry it, all I get is fog and a massive headache!"

"Well, don't take it out on me," was Haku's only comment. "I just work here."

The witch's eyes widened at him, snapping with fury at the river spirit. For a moment, he thought Yubaba might actually launch herself over the desk and attack him.

But after a moment, the old woman settled back.

"That's right." She had dropped the cigarette in her temper; now the witch picked up another and put it in her mouth. "You just work here, despite your _'special conditions.'"_

Yubaba lit it and sneered. "Nigihayami Kohaku Nushi, spirit of the Kohaku River."

Haku's smile had no trace of friendliness in it.

The witch glared at him. "Wipe that grin off your face. After _Sen_ left – that ungrateful little brat – I've allowed you to continue your apprenticeship with full knowledge of your name. I was even so generous as to let you do so _without_ a control slug put back in your body."

Haku's grin faded, but did not entirely disappear. "_Very_ generous of you."

"Yes, yes." Yubaba gave him a look that could peel paint. "Now get out of my sight. I have an errand to run tonight and won't be back until late, so get to work! _Apprentice._"

Haku inclined his head and backed slowly out of the room.

**.**


	7. Death of Ignorance

**Chapter 7:**

**Death of Ignorance**

_-"A spirit that can block scrying magic?" Haku asked, incredulous. "What could do something like that? They'd have to know __exactly__ what you're looking for."_

_ "__DON'T YOU THINK I KNOW ALL THAT?!__" Yubaba screamed, sparks flying from her mouth._

"_I've been sensing something's coming for days! Its presence just kept getting stronger and stronger and stronger!" Yubaba's fists slammed onto the desk, disrupting jewels and papers; a hot wind pulled white strands out of her smooth bun. __Her bird flew away in terror, the heads rolling frantically away. Haku stood his ground. __"No spirit can just erase its presence like that! And when I try to scry it, all I get is fog and a massive headache!"_

_ "Well, don't take it out on me," was Haku's only comment. "I just work here."_

_ The witch's eyes widened at him, snapping with fury at the river spirit. For a moment, he thought Yubaba might actually launch herself over the desk and attack him._

_ But after a moment, the old woman settled back._

_ "That's right." She had dropped the cigarette in her temper; the witch picked up another and put it in her mouth. "You just work here, despite your 'special conditions.'"_

_ Yubaba lit it and sneered. "Nigihayami Kohaku Nushi, spirit of the Kohaku River."_

_ Haku's smile had no trace of friendliness in it._

_ The witch glared at him. "Wipe that grin off your face. After Sen left – that ungrateful little brat – I've allowed you to continue your apprenticeship with full knowledge of your name. I was even so generous as to let you do so without a control slug put back in your body."_

_ Haku's grin faded, but did not entirely disappear. "Very generous of you."_

_ "Yes, yes." Yubaba gave him a look that could peel paint. "Now get out of my sight. I have an errand to run tonight and won't be back until late, so get to work! Apprentice."_

_ Haku inclined his head and backed slowly out of the room.-_

**.oOo.**

Haku walked along the catwalk, about a hundred yards above the bathing floors. The bathhouse was starting to wake up; lights coming on, employees bustling about far below him in a hustle of work, bathwater, and breakfast. _Now that was some food for thought..._ he thought. _A__ spirit strong enough to drive Yubaba to a panic, and with evasive skills so advanced as to erase so much of its presence that it becomes undetectable. It's quite a puzzle. What could it be?_

_ -Haku...!-_

"Huh?"

Haku paused along the catwalk, listening.

"…"

-_...Haku...-_

There it was again! The river spirit stuck a finger into his ear, attempting to dislodge any small entity that might be making him hear things. When nothing came out, he heard it again.

_-Haku...?-_

An icicle of fear sprouted in his heart.

He had heard this voice before – a girl's voice, over the past couple days. But it hadn't been this clear before, just indistinct murmurs, like he was hearing it from underwater. That volume he was familiar with; it was similar to what he heard when humans spoke while swimming in the Kohaku River. His river. But Chihiro had said his river had been filled in, so that couldn't be the case!

"Am I going crazy?" Haku wondered aloud.

His face fell, and he glanced over the edge without thinking.

Then he squinted. Someone down in the baths had caught his attention.

"LIN!"

The brown-haired weasle spirit glared up three floors of empty space at him. "WHAT?!"

The river spirit yelled just as loud as any drill sergeant and twice as irritating. "There is still a ring _on that tub_! That thing you're holding is called a _brush. _ Use it already!"

Lin actually went to throw it at him. "I AM _WORKING_ ON IT, YOU TWO-HEADED, SLIMY, SON OF A –!"

It took three other women to restrain her before she could finish that sentence. Haku shook his head and continued on his way, his face resuming its pensive expression.

"Let... _go_ of me!" Lin broke free of her captors. Or saviors. "Why the heck did you do that?!"

She glared up at Haku's retreating figure and growled. "YOU'RE GONNA GET WHAT'S COMING TO YOU ONE DAY!" she shrieked after him.

"Lin!"

The sable spirit glanced over at the other female workers. "What?"

"...Lin, haven't you noticed? About Haku?"

"What about Haku?" she asked. They looked at each other nervously. "What? Spit it out already!"

Finally, one of them spoke up. "Ever since Sen left last month, Haku's started losing weight."

"He's been eating less!" another added.

"And he's been going to bed later and later."

"_I'm_ telling the _story_!"

They all went quiet. The first girl shot a glare at them, then continued: "Also, some guys that live around Haku's rooms say he's been really sick in the middle of the night, and the laundry spirits say that his sheets are soaked _through_ with sweat every morning. None of us have said anything to him, but... you know..."

Lin rolled her eyes and pulled up her sleeves. "C'mon, girls! You gotta be kidding me. This is _Haku_ we're talking about; Haku doesn't pine, and he certainly never gets sick. He even changed back to something remotely resembling his normal form! It kinda freaked me out when he suddenly turned into a kid, just before Sen came. Made him even more annoying, if you ask me."

"But..."

The sable spirit took up her brush. Like it or not, this ring was going to take some real elbow grease to get off. "Take it from me," she said, resuming her furious scrubbing. "Haku will be fine! And if you don't believe me, ask Kamaji. I don't know how, since he spends all his time down in the boiler room, but somehow that old geezer knows _everything_ that goes on up here!"

The girls sighed, rolled up their sleeves, and joined her. "If you say so, Lin."

Lin nodded approvingly, very sure of her opinions.

From there, the day whizzed by in a flurry of activity, only punctured by Haku's barking commands and the occasional early bird guest, who were quickly taken care of and sent on their way; nicely replenished and smelling of rosebuds. The noon meal passed in a flash. The sun seemed to move faster than usual across the sky as the bathhouse staff worked and worked, tirelessly cleaning every last nook and cranny until the whole place gleamed. Rainclouds gathered just as everyone finished up. By sunset, a grey drizzle had begun to fall – with the cold, heavy rain, even strong spirits craved a warm soak to melt away their chills.

A line quickly formed as the dreary night set in, and rush hour began.

Kamaji was even busier than usual. All three sets of his arms hurt mercilessly with a deep-set ache, with no end in sight. He snatched herbs and salts from the drawers all around the room, working the mortar like a machine, wincing at every movement and cursing his rheumatism. After a couple hours, the boiler man glanced down at the floor. The mat appeared to be swarming with tiny, peeping black puffballs; slowly carrying their burdens of coal up to the boiler, tossing them into the blaze, and hurrying back into what looked like a row of mouseholes for more of the stuff, only to repeat the process. The overworked furnace simmered. It glowed and growled, impatient for fuel.

"Hurry it up, you lazy slobs!" Kamaji growled at the animated soot. He banged a hammer on the elevated platform he sat upon, rousing them to a faster pace. "It's a full house tonight!"

Four small slats of wood, painted different colors, suddenly dropped from the shaft above his head with a clatter, dangling by thin straps of material; bath tokens.

Kamaji felt like he was going to have an apoplexy. "_Ugh_!"

Lin slid open a small wooden door, peering in from beneath the overhang of drawers. "Chow time!" she called.

The sable came in, shutting the door with her foot. "What's up, boiler man?"

"I've never seen this many tokens in an hour!" Kamaji barked. "And these good-for-nothing soot smudges that call themselves _help_ can't move their sorry little behinds worth anything!"

The "soot smudges" actually stopped their work and began to peep in outrage. "Oh, shut _up_!" the boiler man yelled.

Lin smiled. "Just as I thought, you guys are fighting again," she said, sorting through her basket. She offered the six-armed man a bowl of ramen, sushi, and egg rolls. "Lucky for you, I brought gifts of truce."

Kamaji's face lit up. "Ooh!"

He practically snatched the bowl from her. "Meal time! Take a break!"

The soot balls immediately dropped their burdens of coal and bounced over to the edge of the mat, raising a ruckus of peeping hallelujah as Lin began to toss them their dinner of tiny, star-shaped candies. "I'd suggest you eat fast," she told the boiler man. "It's totally _insane_ up there! The line's gone out the door!"

Kamaji swallowed a fish cake. "How's Haku holding up?" he asked, licking some crumbs off his mustache.

"He's fine! Barking orders like a monster as usual."

"I heard he was sick."

"Augh!" Lin tossed a handful of candies with more force than necessary. "What's with everyone and _Haku_ these days! Haku doesn't get sick, _sick_ gets Haku!"

"You're so heartless."

She glanced around, eyes narrowed. "What was that?"

"Come on, Lin, give him a break. It's only been a month since Sen left." Kamaji finished the ramen and started attacking the egg rolls. "He has to be hurting. He made a promise to her, you know."

"A promise?" Lin asked, intrigued in spite of herself.

"Yes. Haku promised her they'd meet again someday."

Her jaw dropped. Now _this_ was a scandal! "He said what?!"

Kamaji nodded, eyebrows knit over his round black spectacles. "And he has no way to keep that promise, as we both know, and he can't even send her a message to tell her that. If he could, I'm not sure he'd have the heart to."

Lin snorted. "Haku? Have a heart?" She turned her nose up at the very prospect and resumed throwing candies. "That might just be the dumbest thing I've ever – GAH!"

Kamaji whipped around; it was quite a feat with his six arms and lanky body. "What?"

Haku was glaring through the sliding wooden door.

Both spirits nearly jumped out of their skin. "Ha-Haku!" Lin stammered. The weasel that was her true form cowered inside her human one, fur raised in terror. "How long have you been th–!"

"Long enough."

Lin shrank back for a moment. Then it occurred to her to feign her normal sassy facade. "W-What are you doing down here? I thought i-it was busy upstairs!" _Crap, I stuttered!_

Haku slid the door shut behind him.

"Don't mind me. I don't want to ruin your _conversation_._"_

His voice almost scalded a layer of skin off Lin and Kamaji. He rose from the floor – graceful and deadly as a snake about to strike – and glided across the room to the lowered section of the floorboards, where the soot balls quivered. He was wearing a hooded cloak spelled to shed rain.

The young man glanced down at them. "I need my sandals. I'm going out." The little black puffs stared at him, petrified by that regal gaze.

"Did you hear me?"

One of the sooties smacked another. The smacked let out a squeak of surprise and gazed wide-eyed at its smacker, which let out a small chorus of peeping. A small group of the frightened little soot balls broke off from the rest, filtering into their mouse holes in search of the shoes.

Lin sat ramrod straight, feeling the ice-cold energy radiating off Yubaba's apprentice. It was scary and absolutely unnerving... but she stole a glance at him.

What the weasel spirit saw made her pause.

Haku looked _terrible_! He was deathly pale and horribly thin; the shadows under his eyes were so bad it looked like both of them had been blacked. His uniform hung loosely on a body that was once the talk of the women's quarters, and his skin had an unhealthy dullness to it. His long hair was limp. Both feet were firmly planted on the floor, and he was not shaking in the slightest, but he still looked like he could barely stand up. If she hadn't heard him shouting so loudly only minutes before, Lin would have thought that wasted body was only capable of whispers.

A thought occurred to her. _Is _that_ why he's so much more of a slave driver lately? _she wondered. _So that we're too busy to realize how bad he's gotten?_

The group of black puffballs returned with Haku's sandals. They hastily deposited them in front of the tall, silent spirit, falling respectfully on what they had of faces. Haku slipped on the shoes.

"_Lin_!"

Lin almost peed herself.

"_Kamaji_!"

"Ye-Ye-Yes?!"

His emerald eyes were dark with fury. "Get. _Back._ To work."

Kamaji snapped to, rheumatism forgotten. The soot balls exploded in a flurry of squeaking activity, dashing into their holes to race coal to the furnace, tiny legs pumping furiously. Haku leaped easily over the lowered section of floor – landing softly as a leaf on the other side – and strode powerfully out the door.

Lin stared after him with whole new eyes.

_What's _happened_ to that guy?_

**.**


	8. Raindrops

**Chapter 8:**

**Raindrops**

_-A thought occurred to Lin: __Is __that__ why he's so much more of a slave driver lately? she wondered. So that we're too busy to see how bad he's gotten?_

_ The group of black puffballs returned with Haku's sandals. They hastily deposited them in front of the tall, silent spirit, falling respectfully on what they had of faces. Haku slipped on the shoes._

_ "__Lin__!"_

_ Lin almost peed herself._

_ "__Kamaji__!"_

_ "Ye-Ye-Yes?!"_

_ His emerald eyes were dark with fury. "Get. __Back.__ To work."_

_ Kamaji snapped to, rheumatism forgotten. The soot balls exploded in a flurry of squeaking activity, dashing into their holes to race coal to the furnace, tiny legs pumping furiously. Haku bounded easily over the lowered section of floor – landing softly as a leaf on the other side – and strode powerfully out the door._

_ Lin stared after him with whole new eyes._

_ "What's __happened__ to that guy?" she whispered, disbelieving.-_

* * *

_Slam_.

Haku shut the door to the boiler room.

Almost instantly, the biting winds pinned him against the bathhouse, splattering him with cold, fat raindrops. Haku squinted against the barrage, trying to keep his hood around his head; if not for the spell on his cloak, he would have been drenched to the bone in seconds. A thin fork of lightning lanced across the iron grey sky. For a moment, it illuminated the grassy terrain – and the railroad tracks far below – in false daylight.

In the same instant, the wind swooped in the opposite direction, taking the rain with it. Haku seized his chance and dashed up the steps. He made the first flight and was almost halfway up the second before the wind changed direction again, pinning him against the bathhouse once more. The river spirit curled up for protection and clung to his cloak, brow furrowed. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

_Screw this,_ he thought. _I don't have to walk._

Luckily, this time the wind changed in his favor.

Haku bolted away from the wall, and – accelerated by the storm at his back – let his human form melt away, launching into the sky as a beautiful, white-scaled dragon.

Unfortunately, it was even rougher in the skies as he aimed for the restaurant district. Turbulence, wind, and rain battered against his long reptilian body. A pale flash ignited just a couple thousand yards away. Haku prayed he wouldn't get struck by a lightning bolt; with his armored scales it wouldn't kill him, but it would hurt like _nuts._ So he prayed.

Soon, he spotted a row of red lanterns glowing bravely through the storm.

_ There it is!_

Haku spiraled down through the sky – sizzling tongues of electricity dancing around him – and came to a safe, albeit bumpy landing in the middle of the street. He resumed his human shape as smoothly as he could. His legs were a little shaky as he got up. His hands were numb; Haku blew into his fists and rubbed them together. Some sake would do him a lot of good.

Behind him, a pale spirit with long, flowing black hair glided in the direction he had come. It wore a robe dark as pitch, the material shifting and blending like the shadows of a graveyard. The large hood flared like a cobra's at the base of a long, swanlike neck. The garment hid the spirit's entire body and most of its face... but could not cover a curling, sadistic smile that was colder than the rain.

Neither spirit noticed the other.

The dark figure glided on its way. Haku knocked most of the street muck from his knees and hurried into the only bar that would stay open in this kind of weather.

**…**

"Welcome to Kuwabara's!" a voluptuous hostess crooned, smiling at him prettily. "Whether you come from the sky or from the onsen – for our customers, we're _always_ open! Home of the Kuwabara Missies, the girls who – as we say, aim to _please._"

Haku pulled down his hood. "Hey, Kiri."

The woman blinked.

Then she squealed in delight as she recognized him. "AH! Master Haku, you're back!" the buxom woman exclaimed. "I almost didn't recognize you! You look...um, good."

Haku touched the limp falls of his hair. "I know I'm a mess, Kiri," he said with a bitter smile. "No need to pretend."

"Is that Haku?" a female voice asked from behind the curtain.

"Master Haku?!" squealed another.

"Haku! Haku!"

"Master Haku!"

Waitresses flocked into the foyer, all excited and squealing in the way that most women did. Haku's dripping cloak was swept miraculously from his shoulders, and the river spirit found himself in the center of a warm, squishy, human tornado as each girl clamored to be heard above the others.

"Wow, he's back!"

"You were gone for so long!"

"What took ya? We missed you, Haku!"

"Has it been three days already?"

"I'll get the handcuffs! We'll _make_ him stay _this_ time!"

"I almost didn't recognize him, without his cute little child form!"

Kiri jumped on his back. "I like him better _this_ way! Who agrees with me?!"

A cheer went up from the girlish mob.

Haku smiled slightly, not really hearing them. He could name each one of these women – Kiri, Susan, Yura, Kyoko, Olivia, Nami, Lacy, and all the rest. They each had their own mannerisms and hobbies, and no one waitress was the same as another. Except for _two_ _things_, which their boss tended to look for when hiring.

"_WHERE THE HECK ARE ALL MY WAITRESSES?_!" boomed a voice like an avalanche. "_THERE ARE HUNGRY CUSTOMERS OUT HERE_!"

Haku glanced up. Speak of the devil.

**.**


	9. Kuwabara, the Mountain Spirit

**Chapter 9:**

**Kuwabara, the Mountain Spirit**

_-The hostess Kiri jumped on his back. "I like him better __this__ way! Who agrees with me?!"_

_ A cheer went up from the girlish mob._

_ Haku smiled slightly, not really hearing them. He could name each one of these women – Kiri, Susan, Yura, Kyoko, Olivia, Nami, Lacy, and all the rest. They each had their own mannerisms and hobbies, and no one waitress was the same as another. Except for _two things_, which their boss tended to look for when hiring._

_ "WHERE THE HECK ARE ALL MY WAITRESSES?!" boomed a voice like an avalanche. "THERE ARE HUNGRY CUSTOMERS OUT HERE!"_

_ Haku glanced up. Speak of the devil.-_

A massive, grey skinned spirit burst through the curtain. He was at least eight feet tall, about six feet wide, and appeared to be made of solid rock that shifted and popped with a sound similar to firecrackers. A humungous red luxury kimono matched the amber stubble that covered a massive sledgehammer of a head, and sandals with iron soles on feet bigger than trash can lids. Eyes hard and grey as flint shone with witty intelligence from under a protruding brow. His nose reminded Haku of a cluster of pebbles he'd found once, fused together by time and pressure, and if he had a neck, he didn't have much of one.

The spirit smelled like stone dust, crushed pine, and liquor. It was an overpowering combination to Haku's sensitive dragon nose... but he had gotten used to it over the years. He was already slightly bowed under Kiri's weight. He didn't bother to go any farther.

"Nice to see you too, Yuma."

Yuma Kuwabara blinked. "Haku?!"

Kiri jumped off just as the river spirit was crushed in the devastating hug of an ecstatic mountain spirit. "You _dog_, not telling me you were coming!" Kuwabara boomed. "I could have had a proper welcome for you!"

"I've come here almost every night for month, now," Haku replied mildly. "Please, Yuma, if you squeeze me any tighter you're going to break one of my ribs."

The huge spirit let go, but not before giving the smaller man an affectionate clout between the shoulder blades. Luckily, Haku was made of sterner stuff than your average joe.

"Only if you let me, old boy!" he replied. "_Girls_!"

"Yes sir!" they chorused, giggling as they congregated around Kuwabara. The mountain spirit steered Haku through the curtain and into his bar.

The initial burst of sensations would have been paralyzing to a newcomer. The air smelled like mountains and sake, filled with raucous laughter, music, and talk. Spirits of all shapes and sizes sat at tables or at the bar itself, downing shots like no tomorrow or talking up the waitresses. Several couples contorted on each other in the corners, but no one seemed to mind. A high ceiling was necessary for Kuwabara to roam about freely. The room was long and well-lit, and other than the gaudy red walls, the place was tastefully decorated.

Kuwabara steered Haku to the VIP table. As far as Haku had ever noticed, the only thing that made that table different was that always had a "Reserved" card on it.

Now, the mountain spirit plucked that card off the table and threw it over his shoulder. Several waitresses pushed Kuwabara's special chair, which was a monument to luxury furniture – six feet tall with cloth of gold cushions, stitched with Eastern-style embroidery – into position as their employer sat. The throne, big and soft as it was, creaked under his massive weight.

Olivia set down several bottles of alcohol by Kuwabara's elbow. "White sake, straight from the bottle. Your favorite, sir!"

Kiri circled around the table, wrapping her arms around their guest's neck. "And what would _you_ like, Master Haku?" she whispered into his ear.

She squeezed lightly. "Just _name_ it."

"The usual, Kiri," Haku answered evenly, unfazed by the buxom girl's advances.

_-...Haku...-_

The river spirit closed his eyes, trying to resist thumping himself upside the head. "Better make that a double."

Kiri hesitated, then shrugged and went to make his drink.

Kuwabara popped open one of his bottles and took a swig of liquor. "Ahhhh! That hits the spot," he sighed, patting his belly with a sound like rock on rock. "So. Haku. What's on your mind?"

Haku chuckled bitterly. "How do you _always_ know when something's wrong, Yuma?"

"Well, how long have we known each other?" he rumbled, taking another swig. "Ahh. Maybe seven, eight hundred years?"

"I guess so."

Kuwabara had the right time frame; it had been close to eight centuries since he had come to this town in search of some excitement. This bar had been Haku's first step into the real world... and bitter reality.

Back then, it had been under different ownership; a dingy, seedy place with more grit on the floor than on the ground outside. Kuwabara, a native slummer, had been bumped into by the previous owner. The man, a low-class stink spirit, actually turned around and demanded an apology for bumping into _him._ Rock-headed mountain he was, Yuma had punched him. Haku – young, hotheaded, and itching for a fight – had decided to help the bigger man out. They were both young spirits at the time, still boiling over with the powerful nature magic that had given birth to them, and quickly beat the stink spirit and his cronies to a revolting brown pulp. They had been best friends ever since.

In time, Kuwabara took over the seedy bar, cleaned it up, and made it his own. Haku stayed with him for a long, long time, helping him "neutralize" crime activity around his pub. Haku was the brains, Kuwabara the brawn.

But somewhere around three hundred years since they'd met, the concept of a rare, powerful young river spirit working for her had tempted Yubaba like the most succulent roasted newt. She found Haku and offered him an apprenticeship.

Three centuries as a mastermind that prevailed over ancient crime lords had changed the lively, hot-headed youth. By then, he was cool headed, cold blooded, and _smart. _Smart enough to realize that her "apprenticeship" was just a fancy title for "accessory." The witch didn't intend to teach him anything. Still, Haku couldn't deny that the concept of magical abilities in addition to his own elemental powers was tantalizing. He explained his situation to Kuwabara. The mountain spirit didn't want to lose Haku to the infamous bathhouse witch, but could understand his friend's motives.

Haku accepted the apprenticeship, his only intention being to steal Yubaba's magical secrets.

Four more centuries passed. Haku became his own authority, and the staff of the bathhouse learned to fear and respect the frigidly beautiful young man. He succeeded in mastering many stolen spells; most of them trivial, some very powerful. However, Yubaba had been getting suspicious of her disappearing and reappearing spellbooks.

But at shortly afterward, out of the blue, Haku received an urgent message from one of the waitresses at Kuwabara's; the mountain spirit had fallen violently ill. Haku had long forgotten his own name, but he remembered Yuma and panicked – forgetting his contract, he raced to his old friend's side.

Kuwabara would live.

But in the human world, his mountain had been destroyed. Flattened by some kind of massive explosion. Yuma said it was instinctive, like he had seen the mountain's death with his own eyes. There wasn't even a pebble left. The man was in shock, but Haku knew he would recover. Surely enough, Yuma made a remarkable comeback, although he would never regain the full strength of a true mountain spirit.

Haku paid for that visit with his freedom. That night, Yubaba inserted her black slug while he was sleeping.

Fifty years passed.

With the slug in his body, Haku became a shell. The bathhouse was a prison, and Yubaba was his jailer. He couldn't visit Kuwabara's. He had lost his very name. He was barely even allowed to visit his precious river anymore. Now that he knew a spirit's physical manifestation could be destroyed, it had become his treasure, forbidden to be touched by human or spiritkind. Everyone avoided him; he was labeled dangerous.

That was when Haku had his first vision; the vision of a tiny human girl drowning in his river.

"Have you ever been in love, Yuma?"

"Right _up_ in it, Haku!" the mountain spirit laughed. "They don't call me 'The Rock' for my body! I own the home of the Kuwabara Missies, who – as we say –!"

"_Aim to please_!" the girls around the bar chorused.

Yuma nodded smugly; Kuwabara's bar was famous for its concubine services.

Kiri pressed up against the back of Haku's head, setting a glass of rippling amber liquid in front of him. "You've _never_ experienced our services!" she pouted. "And I always get stuck with that old, pink-cheeked old geezer from the bathhouse."

"Relax, good evening! _Wachoo_!"

A worker looked at up the foreman. "What's up? You got a cold or something?"

"I guess someone must be talking about me," the spirit said. He rubbed his curly mustache, smile pressing against round cheeks. "Maybe a pretty girl."

Haku snorted. He'd never be able to look at that foreman the same way again.

"Come on, Kiri!" The mountain spirit reached across the table, slapping her butt. You always get the biggest tips of all the Missies, and Haku hasn't used a concubine... well, ever. Now shoo. You have tips to collect."

Kiri scampered away

Kuwabara grinned at Haku like he had discovered a billion-dollar scandal.

"Did _you_ meet a hot broad?" he asked. "You're kidding me! What's she _like_?!" The big man picked up his sake and took a gulp.

"She's a human. Ten years old."

Kuwabara sprayed liquor.

"_What_?" he croaked.

The river spirit glanced down.

"WHAT?!" Kuwabara boomed at the top of his lungs. "YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH A _HUMAN_?! YOU HAVE GOT TO BE –!"

Suddenly, the mountain spirit blinked. The bar was eerily quiet

He glanced around to see his entire bar staring at them.

Haku nonchalantly took a sip of his own drink. It really was good.

Slowly, the bar resumed its babble; Yuma lowered his voice and leaned in towards Haku, his eyes wide as rocks could get. "You have _got_ to be kidding me!" he hissed. "_You_? Of _all_ the spirits I know, I thought you'd be the _least_ likely to do that! I mean, it might be okay with little feelings, but _love_? We can't even, you know... with humans..."

Haku slammed down his empty glass. "Not _everything_ has to be about that, Kuwabara!"

Yuma was stunned. Not _once,_ in seven hundred years, had he ever heard Haku shout out of anger. He could tell by the look in those familiar emerald eyes.

Haku was serious about this.

He was also confused, and desperate. Kuwabara straightened his back, rocky flesh popping; his original intuition had been right. Haku had come here for a reason, but for a reason of far more importance than he had been treating it. His friend needed advice.

"How did you meet her?" Kuwabara asked.

Kiri brought Haku a second glass; he drained that too.

"Through a vision."

"Oh." The mountain spirit cringed. He knew visions were a _bitch_; many dragons had drunk themselves stupid in his bar because of them.

Haku's eyes glazed over. "The first was a couple years ago," he began.

"Just like all my visions, it was always the same, no matter what I did. A human girl, maybe two or three years old. She'd drop her shoe into my river – this little pink shoe – and then reach in after it. She'd fall in... then she'd drown."

Kuwabara offered him his bottle.

"Did you see her face?"

He took it. "No. I can never see their faces."

"Well?"

Haku took a gulp and winced; the alcohol burned like liquid fire as it seared down his throat. How did Yuma drink this stuff? "She fell into my river about a week later. I'd seen her die like that _six_ _times_, Yuma. Human or not, I had to save her. I just brought her to shore, but…"

Kuwabara grinned slyly. "_You_ got attached."

"I kept an eye on her," Haku admitted, flinching as he took another swallow. "I went to the human world from time to time. I learned her name, what she liked. Her favorite food was dumplings, you know?"

His eyes were soft. Kuwabara was taken aback; he had seen this spirit crush an opponent nearly three times his size, unarmed, and without hesitation. This must have been one... unique girl.

"What's her name?"

Haku smiled. "Chihiro. It means 'a thousand questions.'"

Suddenly, his eyes hardened. "Then, I don't know what happened, exactly. It must have been that witch with her slug. But somehow, I forgot her...

"Then a couple months ago, another vision came."

Kuwabara cringed.

"That one wasn't too bad, actually," Haku told the mountain spirit, seeing his friend's expression. "It was Chihiro, on the bridge to the bathhouse, staring into the sunset. I just had this overwhelming feeling of _dread._ I didn't recognize her though... I couldn't see her face."

Kuwabara's eyes widened. "You mean, this Chihiro broad was that _human_ that started working down at the bath house? Some of my regulars are _still_ talking about that."

"When I recognized her, I panicked!" Haku moaned. "I didn't know how she got here, and I couldn't send her back to her world. I don't have the power! And what if something had happened to her? Maybe I was being selfish, but I had to keep her somewhere that she would be safe."

"You thought a bathhouse that a _witch_ has been keeping you prisoner in for almost five hundred _years_ would be _safe_? For a ten-year old human _girl?!"_

"Don't patronize me, Yuma. It was the closest thing I had."

Kuwabara shook his head in disbelief. "I thought you were _smart._"

Haku ran a hand through his hair. "I had to be, to get her out of that mess. A lot of things happened. Yuma..." he whispered, "...she saved my _life._ She got the slug out of my body, and I'm here talking to you because of _her._"

"Was that child form because of her, too?"

"Was that wrong?" Haku asked. "I thought it would make her more comfortable if I appeared closer to her age. After all, she wouldn't confide in me very easily if I looked like _this._" He gestured at his human form, that of a young adult.

"Can't argue with that," Kuwabara rumbled, hard eyes glinting with worry. "What's _happened_ to you, Haku?"

The river spirit hesitated.

"I've been given another slip of the future, Yuma." Haku's face was dark as he slid Kuwabara's bottle back across the table: "...And it's horrific."

The mountain spirit made no move to retrieve his sake.

"Who?"

Haku's voice trembled. His shadows under his tired, emerald eyes looked more bruiselike than ever. "I don't know. There was a fog. I couldn't _see._"

"But you think it's..."

Haku interlaced his fingers and held fast, trying to keep them from shaking. "I don't know," he whispered. "I don't _know_! It was a girl, but she's older than Chihiro; years older. But Yuma, if it _is_ her, I'll be having this vision every night for _years_ and _years_ to come!" Haku gripped his head in both hands, eyes wide. "Please! I can't _handle_ that, Yuma!

_ "I'll go crazy_!"

The young man fell silent, lungs heaving. Silence reigned for long moments. Each second stretched to an hour as Kuwabara watched his friend, helpless to the point of self-torture.

Then, Haku looked up.

If mountains could get goosebumps, Kuwabara would have. The river spirit was half-mad already. His eyes shone with hunger, desperation... a feverish, horrifying light that craved relief. "Yuma, I am _begging_ you," Haku whispered. "I need to get to the human world. I need to _know. _Please_... _if you have heard _anything_, anything at _all_ –!"

"I have."

Haku's eyes widened. "Y-You ha–?"

Kuwabara shook his head. "Haku, I'm not even sure if it's real. The guy who told me was stupid drunk and half-starved from the road... but I've seen that look on a man's face before. You're so desperate, you'll do anything for just the slightest chance. Am I right?"

"_Yes_!" Haku shouted. "What did you _hear_–?!"

"Shh!" the mountain spirit hissed, making him sit. "Just listen, all right?"

Kuwabara glanced from side to side... then leaned in, beckoning him closer. Haku obeyed hungrily.

"Look, this is just a rumor, mind you," the juggernaut hissed, "but a couple days ago, a traveler came in claiming he'd found an artificial reservoir that's not on the map. But here's the catch, Haku. _It's where your river was_."

The spirit's eyes widened. "But my river was...!"

"Buried, I know. But he told me the spring looked like it was siphoning water from _underground,_ flowing against gravity! Like a contraption made by humans, he said."

Haku gaped. Physically, the realm of the spirits was just a flip side of the human world. For nature spirits like him and Kuwabara, there was a mirror of their natural manifestation – such as a river or a mountain – on both sides. But if their embodiment in the human world was destroyed, while it did not kill the spirit, its counterpart disappeared from the spirit realm. Where Yuma's had stood, not a pebble remained. Haku had assumed it was the same with his river.

Also, although other types of spirits could pass into the human world through gates or sheer willpower, nature spirits were limited in their techniques. That is, only by using their natural landmark as two ends of a bridge could they transcend the barrier. When the Kohaku River had been buried, Haku had lost his ability to travel between the worlds. As Yuma had.

"Where is it?!" The river spirit bolted up. "I'll find it, I'll –!"

Something huge and extremely hard closed around Haku's shoulder. He glanced up into eyes harder than stone.

_"HAKU." _ Kuwabara rumbled like a landslide. "_SIT DOWN._"

Something – it might have been the massive hand that looked ready to crush his clavicle – convinced Haku to obey. His behind settled back into the chair, but Yuma Kuwabara did not let go.

"I want you to promise me something," he said, holding their eyes. Flint to emerald; stone to stone. He paused for moment to make sure Haku was listening.

"Do _not_ attempt to go see it tonight."

"But –!"

"Don't trust that witch to understand! Go back to the bathhouse. Take a shower. Think it over. And if you still want to go by this time tomorrow night, _tell people that you're going away_. Then meet me here. I'll escort you there personally."

"But I –!"

"PROMISE ME, DARN YOU!"

Haku stared up at his oldest friend. He couldn't help but remember the words of Kamaji, about another promise; the promise to Chihiro, that bound him surely as any chain. Words were powerful things. He didn't want to say anything that he couldn't follow through. But...

Haku seemed to shrink. "I promise you, Yuma."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

The juggernaut smiled, nodding in approval. "Good."

Suddenly, he waved his hands at the river spirit. "Then get out of here, you! I'll see you tomorrow."

"_Whaaaaat?!_" All the Kuwabara Missies suddenly materialized out of nowhere.

Kiri latched onto Haku's arm, tears in her big blue eyes. "Are you leaving _already_, Master Haku? When will you be _baaaack_?"

Kuwabara stood up. Two Missies quickly tugged away their boss's throne. "How many times do I have to tell you to get back to _work_, girls?!" he scolded his waitresses. "He'll be back tomorrow, and I don't pay you to stand around! Get his cloak, go on."

"_Awww_!"

"Come on!"

"That's no _fun_!"

Nonetheless, Haku's cloak reappeared. The river spirit pulled it around his shoulders as Kuwabara steered him towards the door: "You better get out of here quick!" the giant chuckled. "Before they follow through on the handcuffs!"

Haku couldn't agree more. "What do I owe you for the drinks?"

Kuwabara's mouth dropped, eyes disappearing under a thunderous brow. "Charge my oldest friend for a drink in my OWN BAR?!" the juggernaut shouted. "You little ingrate! It's on the house as always."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Haku chuckled.

Kuwabara shoved him out the door. "Come back soon, and good luck!"

The river spirit grinned as he stepped back out into the rain, a new spring in his step, liquor warming his belly and a fresher outlook on life. He looked back at the bar, waving at the craggy silhouette of his friend in the doorway. Kuwabara smiled and raised his hand in farewell – until he lost sight of his oldest friend in the gloom.

* * *

For some reason, Kuwabara felt a heavy sense of loss come over him.

_What's with that?_ the mountain spirit asked himself. _It's not like that's the last time I'm ever going to see him._

"Mr. Kuwabara?"

He turned to see Kiri's big blue eyes gazing up at him. "Yeah, sweetheart?"

"The rush from the bathhouse is usually here by now. Any idea what happened to them? My tips are my rent, you know!"

The big man glanced out into the storm.

Suddenly, a great flash of lightning ignited the sky. In that split second, Kuwabara would later swear he saw the fearsome silhouette of an enormous black beast – bigger than anything he'd ever seen.

Then, it was gone.

Little did Yuma Kuwabara suspect, the bathhouse rush would never come.

* * *

Haku soared cheerfully across the stormy sky. It didn't even seem to be raining that hard anymore. Soon, he would see the lights of the bath house. He would fulfill his promise to Kuwabara; he would eat dinner and take a shower and go to bed. He feared his dreams with a bone-chilling dread... but for some reason, he felt elated, like this would be the last nightmare for a long time.

The river spirit smiled a toothy dragon grin and kept flying.

Minutes passed, and he kept flying.

And flying.

Suddenly, Haku slowed. Something was wrong. He should have been there by now. Where was the bathhouse?

Then he saw it. The river spirit came to a dead halt, staring in horror.

Where the great structure had once stood, a blackened, sodden, burned-out shell of a building met his eyes. Countless stories had been crushed to the ground, as if smashed by the careless sweep of a massive hand, leaving only a smoldering skeleton of iron and boards – the rain sizzling on live fires and dying embers. He could see pieces of a heavy stone tub scattered across the wreckage like marbles. Pipes had been unearthed and cut, as if by scything claws. Some still worked, sending dying spouts of greenish water pouring into the mud, like blood from a severed limb. Blast marks scorched what was left of the walls. But worst of all, from the sky, one could discern where the boiler room had been; the shape of the room, the curling remains of charred herbs. Kamaji's ruined furnace burped gouts of black, oily smoke into the clouds, still-hot coals spitting angrily as raindrops hit them. Haku heard the machine as it gave one last rumble... then died.

He hadn't been gone for _half_ _an hour._

And these... these were the signs of a dragon attack.

**.**


End file.
